The path of the forsaken
845 Words
Chapter Three
The night swallowed Aria whole as she slipped beyond the healer’s cabin, her heartbeat thrumming against her ribs like a war drum. The cold wind bit at her exposed skin, but she welcomed the sting—it was nothing compared to the searing pain of rejection that still echoed in her chest.
She kept her steps light, her movements swift. The Midnight Howl Pack’s patrols were diligent, but she knew their routes. She had spent years treating warriors who grumbled about their long night shifts. If she could make it past the training grounds and through the eastern woods, she would reach the border before dawn.
Her breath misted in the air as she tightened her cloak around herself and pressed forward. The towering trees loomed ahead, their branches twisting in the moonlight like skeletal fingers reaching for her. The night was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, the rustling of unseen creatures a constant reminder that she was no longer protected within pack borders.
For the first time in her life, she was truly alone.
Yet, she refused to let fear sink its claws into her.
Aria moved with quiet determination, her satchel secured against her body. Every crunch of dried leaves beneath her boots sent her pulse into a frenzied rhythm, but she kept going. She wouldn’t stop. Not until she was free.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
A sudden growl shattered the silence, low and menacing.
Aria froze.
From the shadows, a pair of glowing amber eyes emerged, followed by the massive form of a wolf. It wasn’t a Midnight Howl warrior—no, this wolf was rogue. Scarred, lean with hunger, and exuding an aura of danger that made her blood run cold.
Her fingers twitched toward the small dagger strapped to her thigh. It was hardly a match for a rogue wolf, but she had no choice.
The wolf circled her slowly, its lips peeling back to reveal yellowed fangs.
Aria took a careful step back. “I don’t want trouble,” she murmured, keeping her voice steady.
The rogue snarled, muscles coiling. It wasn’t going to let her pass.
Aria inhaled sharply, then spun on her heel and ran.
The beast lunged.
She barely managed to twist out of the way, her shoulder grazing the rough bark of a tree as she veered deeper into the forest. The rogue was fast, but she knew these woods—knew every hidden path, every fallen log, every winding trail that could give her an advantage.
Branches whipped against her face as she sprinted, her lungs burning with effort. The rogue was gaining.
Then—
A howl split through the night.
Not the rogue’s.
Something more powerful. More commanding.
Aria’s steps faltered. From the darkness, another wolf emerged, this one larger, its silver-gray coat gleaming under the moonlight. Its scent hit her instantly—strong, dominant, unfamiliar.
A rogue, but different.
The first wolf skidded to a halt, hackles raised, torn between fight and flight.
The silver wolf growled low and deep, stepping between Aria and her attacker. It didn’t hesitate. With a blur of movement, it lunged.
The clash was brutal. Fangs met flesh, claws raked fur. The rogue yelped but fought back, desperate and wild. The silver wolf, however, was stronger, its strikes precise, its fury controlled.
Aria watched, her breath caught in her throat. She had seen warriors fight before, but this was different. This wolf didn’t fight with blind rage—it fought with purpose.
Within moments, the rogue was retreating, limping into the darkness, its tail tucked low in submission.
The silver wolf stood victorious, its sides heaving. Slowly, it turned its head toward her.
Aria tensed as the wolf took a step forward. Then another.
A gust of wind carried its scent to her once more. It was unlike anything she had ever encountered. Not Midnight Howl. Not a mere rogue. Something else entirely.
Then, before her eyes, the wolf began to shift.
Bones cracked. Fur melted away, replaced by smooth, battle-scarred skin. The transformation was seamless, practiced. And when it was complete, a man stood before her.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His silver hair tousled from the shift. His sharp features were cut from stone, his piercing dark eyes locked onto hers.
He was power incarnate.
And he was watching her with unnerving intensity.
Aria clenched her fists. “Who are you?”
The man tilted his head slightly, as if amused by her defiance.
“You’re far from home, little wolf.” His voice was deep, edged with a quiet strength that sent a shiver down her spine.
“I don’t have a home anymore,” she said bitterly.
Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone before she could grasp it.
“I see.” He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Come.”
Aria frowned. “Come where?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “With me.”
Her heartbeat stuttered.
She had just escaped one prison. Was she about to walk into another?
- Writer
